


Worthy

by ArianneMaya



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub Play, Domestic Avengers, Double Anal Penetration, Held Down, Multi, Natasha Feels, Natasha-centric, Obedience, Pegging, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Subspace, Switching, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 17:25:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2237352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArianneMaya/pseuds/ArianneMaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After they bring down SHIELD, the hardest thing for Natasha isn't to find a new purpose or people she can trust. </p>
<p>The hardest thing is to figure out who she is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worthy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Bring Back the Porn](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/bbtp_challenge) challenge. Many, many thanks to Eeyore9990 for the amazing, speedy beta. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

After SHIELD falls, the hardest thing isn't finding a new purpose. Life offers Natasha exactly that in the form of the little help she can give Steve whenever she has time in his seemingly neverending quest to find Bucky. 

The hardest thing isn't to feel safe again, either. She's long accepted that the concept of any place to call home would never apply to her; that _home_ would be wherever she had people she could trust. There's no more SHIELD, but she still has Clint, and Maria, and Nick. To that very short list, sometimes through the long months of looking for Bucky, she adds Steve and Sam. 

The hardest thing happens once they finally find Bucky, when they all settle in what Stark re-named the Avengers Tower, because it's the only place where they'll all be safe from the world. Now that her past is out in the open, numerous countries are after Natasha for some of the things she did as a teenager, before and after she became known as the Black Widow. Besides, even if Bucky's time with HYDRA has been recognized as him being a POW and everything he did during that time, forgiven, the list of conditions that allowed him to be released into the Avengers' care is so long that the tower was the only place that would allow them to fulfill them all. As for Sam and Steve, even though they keep shaking their heads at the luxury they find themselves surrounded by, they quickly admit that hiding in plain view makes things a lot easier than it would be to try and have some kind of anonymity. 

After blowing up all of her covers, Natasha's plan had been to figure out new ones. To create herself a new set of identities that would allow her to fade into the background again, to run and disappear at a moment's notice. And that would have been easy, but it would have meant another set of lies. 

The hardest part starts when Natasha admits that, while she can build and put on a new identity as easily as others put on new clothes, she has no idea who _Natasha Romanoff_ is. 

Instead of taking the easy way out, she chooses to try and discover herself. 

She finds out that she doesn't like vodka. She can drink it like water, but only enjoys it for the way it makes Sam tease her about being a 'walking, talking Russian stereotype'. 

She hates action movies – she sees more than enough explosions and car chases in her day-to-day life – but she loves everything from Disney. She soon knows many songs from her favorite movies by heart, but she can't sing to save her life. Somehow it makes her happy to realize that: one of her numerous Russian identities was an opera singer. 

Every tiny bit of knowledge is like a little gem hidden in the fold of her life, all the pieces that make her who she is instead of just an amalgam of different personas carefully constructed through the years, and she holds onto each piece with both hands. 

So even though she _can't_ sing, she does anyway, at the top of her lungs, without a care in the world as to who can hear her. Steve is the only one who doesn't tease her about her singing. Instead, he watches her with a fond smile, and, once while she's babysitting little Emily – she's still certain that Stark invited them to move in with him so he and Pepper and Rhodey could enjoy having a bunch of live-in babysitters whenever they need one – and softly crooning _A Whole New World_ while Emily falls asleep in her arms, he sits in the room next to them and draws them.

Natasha loves the drawing so much that she hangs it next to her bed. She's been in contact with kids once or twice during ops, but it was always only a means to an end, never like this, sharing peace and quiet.

She loves kids she realizes from the moments when she's the one to look after Emily, from her small interactions with Sam's nieces. One afternoon, she lets them braid her hair, and even though the result is anything but pretty, Natasha's smile in the picture Sam takes of them – with shaky hands because he can't stop laughing – is soft and open and genuine. 

She loves reading, but more than anything, she loves taking a book apart, loves to understand why it works or why it doesn't. She wants more than to lose herself in a story. She finds forums where people do exactly that and starts comparing notes with people. There are a handful of people with whom she interacts more than others, who sends her emails if she doesn't show up for a few days and ask what's going on in her life. She does the same and realizes that she doesn't do it out of obligation but because she genuinely wants to know. In the middle of one of those conversations that starts about books and moves onto life in general, she looks up, startled when she realizes that she has made what she can only describe as friends. 

She's a bad cook. Left to her own devices in a kitchen, she can't even manage to boil water without making it burn. That happened only once, true, but no-one is ever going to let her forget it. 

She is, however, a very good assistant-cook, as long as somebody else is responsible for the actual cooking. She can chop vegetables into tiny, even bites without much of an effort. Her favorite part is when she gets to taste everything before everybody else, and for a second, the burst of flavor on her tongue is like a secret shared between her and whoever she's helping – usually Sam. 

There are other things she enjoys, things that make her who she is, but it takes her much longer to figure them out. In part because it takes forever for those desires to show up, and when they do, it takes her even longer to act on them. 

For years, she's used her body, her attitude, to get what she wants out of her target. Seduction is as much a part of her skill set as her ability to read people or the fact that she can fight and take down someone who's twice her size without breaking a sweat. 

After so much time spent ignoring her own desires except when they could get her faster toward her goal, it takes her forever to get back in tune with her own body. 

When she met Steve, the instant trust and mutual respect he shows her – she'll never forget how he took Clint back into the field on her word alone – hits something deep inside her. It's only much, much later that she understands that attraction played a pretty big part in what she was feeling. 

There was the same kind of discordance between what she felt and the way she acted when she met Sam, flirting back at him without even wondering if she wanted to, almost out of habit more than anything else: seduction was still her best camouflage. 

By the time she felt connected to herself enough to figure out that hell yes, she _wanted_ , that she wanted them _both_ , they already had each other. 

So she decided that, if that was all she could get, she would learn to be happy with their friendship. What they shared was so beautiful, so pure, the last thing she wanted was to taint them with the red in her ledger. 

It took weeks of Clint calling her blind and of Bucky telling her, in very expressive Russian, that she was being an idiot before she did something about it. 

Not on her own, though. Jury's still out on whether she wants to kiss or kill them for the way they managed to make her walk in on Sam and Steve.

She stood there, the door to their shared living room hanging open behind her – after agreeing that Tony's idea of giving each of them their own floor was ridiculous, Natasha and Clint moved onto the floor Steve and Sam already shared with Bucky. She was frozen into place at the sight of them, both their shirts lost somewhere on the floor, Steve straddling Sam as they kissed like they had all the time in the world. 

She knew she should have walked out before they noticed her, but she couldn't bring herself to. Instead, she stood there, unable to move until they let go of each other and Steve looked at her. "Are you leaving or are you joining us?"

He was looking at her with such intensity that she had to say something, anything to break the tension. "I didn't think you two would be okay with sharing." 

"We don't share."

It hurt like a punch to the stomach. She sucked in a breath as she tried to find a way not to further humiliate herself, but before she could leave, they were both standing next to her, and Sam was cupping her cheek with his hand. "All he meant was that, if we do this now? Not so sure we can go back to being friends in the morning."

It would have been easy to pretend she misunderstood him. The last thing she wanted was to lose their friendship. Yet she heard herself say, "I don't want to be just friends."

That night, they took her to bed, and spent hours learning every inch of her body.

Since then, she keeps discovering new things about herself. 

She loves watching the sun rise over Manhattan from the top of the tower, the show of colors, of soft blue and pink and red before the sun finally appears over the rooftops. 

She likes to cuddle on the couch at night when they're watching a movie, sharing the same, huge blanket, a little cocoon of heat and love and affection. 

She likes discovering new, obscure restaurants where everything tastes so different. She likes to dress-up and call it _date night_ and, more than anything, she loves that nobody but them can guess that they're on a date. 

On morning afters, she laughs herself silly at the endless speculations: the poor tabloids can't seem to decide if she's dating Sam or Steve. 

It feels like nothing really changes. Their friendship, the very real feelings that grew between them while all three of them had nobody else to watch their back, isn't gone. The only difference is that now, there's more of everything. More shared laughter, more secrets whispered at night. 

They start to share a bed, and Natasha swears softly in Russian at the way Steve steals away all the blankets, turning himself into some kind of blanket burrito. He's the warmest of the three but his years spent sleeping in the ice have left scars behind, and he can't handle the smallest hint of cold when he's sleeping. So Natasha and Sam always cuddle him close, even if sometimes they think it's too warm. They keep him safe between them, like a reminder that Steve isn't going to wake up alone again, in a world that moved on without him. 

She loves this, the give and take, the way she's slowly figuring out what they need and the best way to give it to them, aware that they're both doing the same thing for her. 

She learns that, when he has nightmares, Sam won't sleep the rest of the night. When that happens, he often spends the rest of the night on the balcony, and he doesn't fly for a couple of days afterward. Steve or Natasha always check up on him when he leaves their bed, but if he says that he needs to be alone, they listen. 

She likes watching Sam and Steve together, likes that she's a privileged witness to their easy affection, to the love they share. She knows that they don't like the feeling that she's just watching from the sidelines, that they want her to remember that she's a part of this, always. And while she knows this, she also can't forget that they were together before she became a part of them.

Sometimes, she's perfectly happy playing with herself while she watches Sam riding Steve's cock, drinking in the display of muscles and the way they're losing themselves in each other. Sometimes, she tells them what to do. She doesn't always want that much control over them, but once in a while, it gives her a sense of power that's as addictive as a drug. And, she soon realizes, this is Sam's thing. He likes being told what to do, likes to obey orders. He never asks for it directly – for all that Sam's the one who always insists on clear communication and the like, he also loves to ask in front of everybody else, in a way only Steve and Natasha will understand – but at some point during the day, he'll answer one of Steve's commands with a cheeky, "Sir, yes sir!" 

That's all they need to know where the night is going. Steve spends so much of his time in the field giving orders – and butting heads with Stark – that he isn't much for giving orders in the bedroom, but Natasha's happy to step up. She enjoys it, but more than anything, she loves watching what it does for Sam, loves that she's the one who get to give him this. 

She enjoys sparring, even more than she remembered. She'd used to think of it as an obligation, a way to maintain her training, to ensure that she's always in perfect shape, always ready to head back into the field and do whatever's expected of her. Now she finds it fun in a way she never expected to. She finds out that she doesn't always need to win, and that sometimes, she likes to give in, deliberately.

She likes being held down. She discovers that by accident. It's one of those time when she's sparring with Sam. They both know she's not giving it her all, so it's no surprise when she finds herself flat on her back, with him on top of her. 

"You want a rematch?" he asks.

"No."

His smile softens, and as he bends to kiss her, he slowly moves his hands from her shoulders to her wrists. Right before he kisses her, because it's Sam and he knows her patterns, so he's always checking in, even if he's sure of her response, he says, "Is this okay?"

She nods, but Sam doesn't move. He keeps the pressure of his hands light, so light that she knows she could get away easily, and she's surprised at the strength of her desire, at the realization that she wants the exact opposite. Looking at him straight in the eyes, she moves her arms slowly, oh-so-slowly, taking his hands with her as she brings both of her hands over her head, and she asks, "Can you hold me down?"

"Why not?" And he does exactly that, tightening his grip while he kisses her, and, later, holding her in place with one hand while his other hand finds its way into her pants, just a gentle friction against her clit until she's all but bucking against him, begging him for more. 

Not once does she tries to move her hands, though. 

So it becomes a thing they do, a thing she enjoys, a thing that isn't a leftover from any of her personas but that is purely Natasha. They try it other ways, too, but she quickly figures out that rope and leather don't do much for her. What she craves is the feeling of strong hands holding her down, the knowledge that she could free herself if she needed to but that she won't even try because if she said the word, they'd release her. 

She likes it even more when Steve is the one holding her down while Sam fucks her, when she can fool herself that she can't free herself, that there is nothing she can do to stop them. She knows, deep down, that it isn't true, and she doesn't want them to pretend that they wouldn't stop, either. It's just a little story she tells herself, another of the myriad of ways that she uses to feel, for the first time since the Red Room took her when she was a child, in control of her life. 

But when it happens, it colors everything they do, and it makes her come so hard that she sees stars. 

Yet, as much as she enjoys being the center of their attention, it isn't what she likes best. 

What she likes best are nights like this one. 

When Steve lets down his shields, both physical and emotional, and Natasha and Sam get to take him apart, piece by piece. When Steve leaves himself in their hands, open and trusting. She doesn't think he's ever more gorgeous than in those moments, and she's sure that Sam agrees. 

She loves this kind of moment, when Steve is beyond words and it's up to them to make sure that he's safe and enjoying himself. It speaks of so much trust that it chokes her up just to think about it. Being given such a precious part of someone is a thing she's almost certain she doesn't deserve, yet here she is. 

She's lying on her back on the bed, with Steve on top of her. He almost balked at the idea of doing it like this, arguing that he was too heavy, and Natasha had to remind him, gently but firmly, that it wasn't his choice. 

She holds him against her body, making it clear that he isn't going anywhere. The strap-on attached to her hips is buried to the hilt in Steve's ass. He is heavy, true, but she wouldn't admit it for anything in the world. 

All of her focus is on Steve, on every noise he makes while Sam pushes sure fingers into Steve's ass, alongside the dildo. Another reason why they're doing it this way: they had every intent, from the start, to render Steve non-verbal, but Sam and Natasha are both aware that they need to keep a close eye on him if they do that. And since this isn't doing much for Natasha – it's not like she can feel Sam's fingers in Steve's ass – she's free to keep her attention on Steve, to put her observation skills to good use. 

She keeps up an almost constant stream of words while Sam works his fingers in and out, aware that Sam's doing the same. They both know that at this point, their words don't register for Steve; he's down so deep that he doesn't speak, that it takes him a minute to process orders and obey them. 

So they don't ask anything of him. Natasha holds him against her body and Sam presses himself against Steve's back when he pushes inside him, sandwiching him between them. 

They both keep talking, telling him how good he is, how strong, how gorgeous. Sam is slowly moving in and out while Natasha remains right where she is. She hasn't started the vibration that would ensure her an orgasm, isn't even sure that she will. 

She never thought of herself as selfless until she started this thing with them. She still doesn't think she is, but in that kind of moment, sometimes she doesn't even care if she comes or not. 

When Steve's in a more playful mood, she loves to rides his face, to watch Sam choke him on his cock, to use his cock for her own pleasure while forbidding him to come, to listen to the noises he makes when Sam fucks him just right. But that supposes a Steve who's sassy and bratty and who has to be _made_ to obey. 

This, tonight, is about taking him apart and putting him back together. This is Steve trusting them with everything he has, everything he is, until he's theirs, body and soul. 

Focusing on her own pleasure is almost impossible. Not when she still has a hard time believing that Steve, Captain America, the very representation of everything that is good and pure, honestly thinks she's worthy of that much trust. 

And that might be the best thing Sam and Steve have given her. They both know her. They've heard the stories of her past. They know everything there is to know about her, the good and the bad. 

They know as much as she's ever told anyone about the red in her ledger. And still they give her their love, their trust. 

Because no matter everything else, they still think she's worthy of it. 

And in moments like this, she believes them.


End file.
